Common Ground
by Fati Sasspants
Summary: As far as Raphael is concerned, the only thing he and Leo have in common is spite.


**_Writing Splinter-dialogue is about as painful as getting a root canal without _**_**novocaine. Critique, suggestions, and flames all welcome.**_

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_**"Shut up, Leo, let me do it on my own!" You don't just walk up to someone and try to take their sai. Especially when your own weapon of choice isn't even the one you're trying to show off with.

"You're not doing it right," Leo insists. "I'm trying to help you."

Raph begins to feel his face prickle with embarrassment. "Why don't you _help me_ by minding your own business?"

"Fine, then, do it wrong," he retorts, marching away to the other side of the dojo. "See if I care."

Raph's eyes follow him the whole way. "Hmph. Know-it-all."

...

Raphael is stewing, as per usual, when someone else brings it up. Mikey, of course. Not maliciously-because Mikey isn't malicious.

"Hey, how come Leo doesn't have to help?" he asks, paused over a pile of rubbish with a dust pan and broom.

Raph fights the urge to say anything, boy, does he fight it.

"He is helping," Donny explains, motioning for him to finish sweeping up the mess. "He's helping sensei."

"Yeah, but that's light-weight stuff. Dusting." he empties the dust pan into a plastic bag and jumps to his feet. He sets the broom handle in the center of his palm, attempting to balance it. "I could dust."

"Jealous?" Donny asks with a smirk.

"What?" Mikey's head thrusts back, as though he's been struck. "As if. I'm just saying, why do we always get stuck with the cruddy work? Who knows, I could be a prodigy duster or book organizer."

"Prodigy kiss-ass," Raph says below his breath, avoiding even glancing in Leo's direction. As far as Raphael is concerned, the only thing he and Leo have in common is spite.

...

Raphael is settled on the couch, poking at a hole in the fabric when Leo passes him, headed for Master Splinter's room. His expression darkens as the shoji doors slide shut. He tells himself he doesn't care what Leo's gone in to complain or seek wisdom about this time, though he finds himself straining to hear, anyway.

If there's one thing Leo likes more than being perfect at everything, it's having something to feel guilty about. The guy is just plain messed up in the head. It's confusing, and God is it irritating- always the first in the dojo, always the last to leave, and if when he leaves, there isn't a content little smirk wedged in the corner of his mouth, he'll get into a funk that lasts for days.

He won't turn the volume down, or flip the channel- no, that would be too obvious. He wishes he hadn't insisted on watching wrestling. He lifts his shoulders and drops them, as though to physically rid himself of curiosity, and stares at fuzzy television set.

He stiffens as he hears the shoji doors slide open and then click shut. There is certain calm about Leo that wasn't there before as he slips by. Whatever the problem was, it's been settled, now. Raph's chest inflates and silently deflates, his head shaking side to side.

All that ability, all that determination and stubbornness, and still a daddy's boy.

...

Raphael watches the back of Leo's shell vanish down the dark, dank tunnel in disbelief. He tells himself he shouldn't be surprised, though the irritation still flares up within him. Whether or not Leo ever admits it, he's a manipulator. A manipulator of words, of body language. And while it's true that he doesn't always get his way, he certainly gets it a lot more than Raph does.

"Are you kiddin' me?" his voice comes out thick, and he has to swallow to force the bile down. His sai are clanging on the cold stone floor a moment later, his body marching in frantic autopilot to his father. He falters, but only for a moment, when the expectant eyes pass over him. "I asked permission to go topside last week," he explains, sounding maybe a little angrier than he should. "I passed the test, I know what to do to avoid being caught. Why's Leo get to go and not me?"

Why is it Leo gets to do whatever Leo wants? He wants to shout. The words never make it up his throat, which, given the look on his father's face, is a good thing. He wants to shrivel up into dust and blow away, but what's said is said. He squeezes his fists tightly, waiting to be reprimanded.

"You did pass," Splinter concedes with a brief nod. "But you are not yet ready, Raphael."

On impulse, his head begins to twitch side to side, his eyes small and dark. And Leo is? Based on what? Age? A lame excuse. The word "bull!" escapes from him, and this time he does shout.

Splinter looks at him pointedly, saying steadily, "you are angry."

You think? Raph wants to say. He might get caught up in the moment from time to time, but he isn't dumb, and so he swallows the comment.

"You feel that I am treating you unfairly," Splinter adds.

"Yeah," Raph says, lowering his gaze.

"How does one manage four very different people," he begins slowly, thoughtfully. "How is one to keep things fair? I have tried to raise you as one, although it is not entirely possible. You are all different, Raphael, and therefore must be treated differently. I have no guide, no book, no one to seek advice from. I must follow my instinct. You passed the test, you are correct, though as a father I do not feel comfortable sending you topside alone, nor would I feel comfortable sending Michelangelo or Donatello."

"But Master," Raph cuts in, "I'm just as strong as Leo, if not stronger."

"Strength is not everything. While it is true that you are both similar in that aspect, you do not always think before you act."

Raph lowers his head. Okay, so he exactly can't argue with that. He knows he doesn't always think, and sometimes it comes back to bite him in the ass. It doesn't make him any less angry about Leo being the golden child.

"If you can prove to me that you can think before you act, then I will consider letting you go."

Something inside him tells him not to believe it, that it's just another fatherly cop-out, but he doesn't want to have this conversation anymore. He nods his head gently, and then bows, backing away. He grabs his sai and heads into the dojo, and for the first time in his life, he hopes Leo gets himself into something he can't handle someday.

...

But when Leo makes his first kill, Raphael is there. He backs away, eyes vacant and expression firm, insisting that he'd rather be alone. Despite his claims, he doesn't resist when Raph helps him set aside his katana and wash the blood splatters from his hands, arms, and plastron. He isn't the hugging kind of guy, and luckily, neither is Leo. And when Leo leaves their Master's room, still looking rigid and out of place, he motions for Leo to join him on the couch, where they watch hours of mindless television, neither one speaking.

Several times, he finds himself wanting Leo to break down, and he doesn't even feel guilty for it. He isn't sure why, but there's some strange satisfaction in knowing that Leo isn't one hundred percent perfect, one hundred percent of the time.

He can't stop himself from asking. "What'd it feel like?"

"It was... unreal. I could feel the blade as it _lodged itself into him_. I swear," his voice wavers slightly, "I could feel the guy's heartbeat fade."

He hates to admit it, but there's a hint of jealousy nagging at the back of his mind. Why should he be jealous that Leo killed before him? Why should he be jealous at all? And yet, it bothers him like no other when Leo explains to him something he can't possibly understand until he's experienced it. He hates the differences between them-always has.

It is nearing two in the morning when Leo asks, "Do we hate each other?"

The question takes him by surprise. The answer doesn't immediately come to him, which is troubling. Sure, Leo drives him insane, but does he hate him? "I dunno. Do we?"

"I don't hate you. I just can't stand you." Raph blinks several times, thinking he couldn't possibly have heard Leo say those words. "You're so pigheaded, and you think you always know what's best... You drive me crazy sometimes." Raph has a few choice words for him, too, but Leo cuts him off. "But I was thinking. That guy I killed, what if he had a family? What if he had a brother?" he shakes his head. "I don't want us hate each other, Raph."

Never being one for sentimentality, Raph feels himself lock up. An awkward silence passes between them. "Well," he says at last, "I don't _hate_ ya, but I can't stand ya, neither. You're so hung up on being either the best or worst at whatever you do. Makes me sick."

Leo manages a smirk. "So, then, it's settled. We can't stand one another."

It looks as though they do have some common ground, after all. And as strange as it may seem, it's the closest Raph has felt to his brother in a long time.


End file.
